Kiss Quick
by happycookiie
Summary: A collection of different moments when Rick and Beth kiss one another on the cheek, head, jaw... And then the one moment that it wasn't any of those.


**Author's Corner**

More Rick and Beth because I'm on a Brick strip of obsession, so here's another one-shot to satisfy your otp agony. Hope you enjoy, review if you do!

 **Summary:** A collection of different moments when Rick and Beth kiss one another on the cheek, head, jaw... And then the one moment that it wasn't any of those.

 **Character(s):** Rick Grimes/Beth Greene.

 **Themes:** Romance, Family, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

* * *

 **KISS QUICK**

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The first time she kissed him was when he came back from Woodbury.

Maggie and Glenn were safe, they'd gotten back unharmed and in one piece, and after an affectionate hug from her sister, little Beth Greene had sprinted right over to him and thrown her arms around his neck too.

He could deal with that, Beth was just one of those people, he'd expected it even. But what he _didn't_ expect was for her to pull away slightly and plant a quick, chaste kiss on his right cheek.

He had been more than a little muddled when she'd done that and looked up at him with her big glittering eyes, eyes that sung, _Thank you_. Gratitude pouring from her expression and soft caresses of fingers on his shoulders. Rick supposed that was all it was as she walked away, hand clasped in Maggie's, their arms swinging, as he watched her back. Gratitude. Her way of showing thanks for him saving her sister, and he was okay with that.

Everything was okay... Until it started to not be.

.

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The second time it happened was several weeks after Lori's passing. He'd been sitting on the steps in the east cell block, head in his hands and heart in the gutter. He wasn't as much a mess as he had been before, but he was still in hardly decent shape. He'd held baby Judith for the first time recently. His own baby girl. And Beth had taken to being primary carer for her—nursing, feeding, burping; the lot. So technically, she was as close to a living, breathing mother little Judy had, and Rick was grateful for what she was doing.

Now _he_ was the one with the gratitude.

She sought him out one day, found him sitting on the steps, and stood just before him with Judith cradled in her arms. The baby squealed and suckled on Beth's thumb, and she coughed nonchalantly to get his attention. He looked up and met her dazzling gaze, and she smiled. That blinding, Beth Greene smile, and gestured for him to take Judith from her. He managed a smile then, something that was becoming quite the rarity, and held out his arms to take the baby. And as she was within range, _he_ planted a brief kiss on her left temple, her gold hair plastering to his mouth for a second before he pulled away. She stared at him questioningly, eyes sceptical, before finally breaking out into another smile that shone with cordiality.

She was light in that moment. Softness. Yellow cocktail music. And he couldn't help but feel a little optimistic about things after that.

Beth always had that effect on him, her and Hershel both, even Maggie to an extent. They were so powerful with their faith and beliefs, their morals so strong, so raw, they influenced nearly everyone around them. He supposed it was a family trait of sorts. The Greene Effect. But despite them all having it, there was something about Beth's super power that was different. Where Hershel was painfully wise and positive, and Maggie was striking and brave... Beth was subtle. Yes, that was the word. She was subtle with her approach; gentle.

Her eyes weren't green and piercing like Maggie's, they were soft and blue. Like the sky on a spring morning, tender and fresh.

It was hard to describe the atmosphere present around Beth Greene.

Rick supposed he would never really be able to fully describe it.

.

.

The third time was very different, to say the least, and a hell of a lot more complicated.

To summarise: the prison had fallen, what was left of the group had fled in disorganised clusters, and they'd all been separated. Rick and the majority of the group had assumed sweet little Beth Greene was dead, hell even her own sister thought it might be the case. But as luck would have it, she wasn't.

It turned out she'd fled the scene with Daryl, only she wasn't with him when Rick and the rest regrouped with him.

She was missing.

"She dead?" he'd asked.

And Daryl's reply had been a vague: "She's just gone."

Rick hadn't understood what that meant, still assuming she was dead, but he'd wanted to hold on. To the hope Hershel stood for. To the soft faith Beth had shown to him. So he'd brushed it aside, and forced himself to believe, like _Daryl_ did, oddly enough.

Gone didn't equal dead.

And it certainly didn't, for they found her not long after, held captive in Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. They made plans to storm the place and rescue her, as well as Carol who too had gotten herself holed up in there, but Tyreese had suggested a less violent approach. Rick wanted to refuse the suggestion, the risk too high with Beth and Carol's lives on the line, but Daryl had spoken up and sided with Tyreese.

 _Daryl Dixon_ was opting for a less brutal battle plan, to save his two captured friends, one perhaps a little _more_ than just a friend in his eyes. And then Rick thought that if Daryl of all people could believe... Then he could believe too.

So they captured three of the hospital's people to use for a trade, two after Rick ran one over and blew his brains out – a brutal move he justified by thinking it was for Beth. For his failure to protect her, for her ending up in that cursed place, and for not having enough faith in her.

It was during the trade that he'd kissed her, unwilling to stop himself.

Daryl had gone to retrieve Carol in her wheelchair, whilst Rick stepped forward for the scarred up Beth. She stepped forward towards his outstretched hand, and he cupped her cheek. She then pressed her head against his neck in a sort of hug, and he just hadn't been able to help himself. So he kissed the crown of her head, right there in front of everybody. And though no one said or did anything, he couldn't help but wonder what they all thought of the action.

And it very well might've been the last thing he'd done to her, because she got a bullet blown through her skull literally a few minutes after that, and for a long moment Rick had thought that was it.

That was the end of Beth Greene.

One of the final cogs winding down in the effect spectrum, leaving only a few pieces of clockwork still ticking. Well, _one_ to be precise. Just Maggie.

The sun went out that day, the music stopped playing, and Rick cried for the first time in a long time.

They had reached their coda.

.

.

But you see, the funny thing about the way the world was after the turn... Was that things that should be dead didn't often _stay_ dead.

Or in this case, Beth had survived a practically fatal shot to the head, and lived to tell the tale.

Rick could never forget the wave of emotion that washed over him the moment he saw her again. The array of _feeling_ that shook him, broke him, sent him crashing to the ground in tiny pieces, and reshaped him into something else. Her scars had healed slightly since the last time he saw her, months having passed since that fateful day. Miles had been walked, homes had been found, and bonds had been strengthened. And upon her head she bore a dirty bandage that covered the messy hole that tore upon into her brain cavity.

Maggie had thrown herself at her, crying hysterically and screaming about how she was sorry. Sorry for what, Rick didn't know, but Beth seemed to, for she was able to forgive her. _Forgive_ whatever Maggie had done, because that was what Beth Greene did.

Daryl had almost given Maggie a run for her money with his reaction to seeing Beth again, him rushing to her and catching her in a bone-crushing hug that pulled her up off her feet the tiniest of inches, and had her suspended in mid-air. His arms were clamped around her waist, and hers were wound around his neck as she squeezed maybe harder than he was her (impossible as it looked).

Rick could tell that Daryl really didn't want to let go of her during that, and maybe she hadn't wanted to let go of him either. And whilst Rick was oddly envious of the display of emotion and fondness, he was also remarkably happy for his friend.

For finding flame in the dark, and not being afraid to chase it.

It had been _his_ turn to greet Beth then, if greet was even the proper word for it, and the glittering blue of her eyes brought a familiar lump to his throat.

His arms were around her in an instant, hers winding around his stomach and pressing herself into his hard front. She buried her mistreated face into his chest and breathed, her breath coming out in small puffs and seeping through his shirt. And he brought a hand up to stroke the back of her head, tenderly evading the exit wound, and his other hand rubbed up and down her back. Then she leaned up and planted a warm kiss on the connecting place where his jaw met his ear, this one more lingering than all the rest, more probing somehow, but he dismissed it.

He thought of Jessie then, oddly enough. Of her striking resemblance to Beth and all their similarities, and how in some moments she'd been so painfully like the youngest Greene that he'd been unable to stop himself from showing flashes of rapid affection.

Like planting kisses on her cheeks when she held Judith, secretly, _selfishly_ pretending she was another certain blonde. But no one could ever fill the place of Beth Greene, no matter how alike her they may be. _No one_.

So he smiled, for what felt like the first time in a million moons.

"Good t'see ya again."

And she smiled back.

Like she always did.

"You too."

.

.

Suddenly, everything was very dark. Things had always been dark, death being around every corner and flesh-eating monsters on their heels. But this time, things were extremely dark, countless shades darker than before. Blackening.

A lot of people in the group were gone. And not just Beth-gone.

 _Proper_ gone, like never-coming-back-gone.

Abraham. Michonne. Eugene. Jessie, and some other Alexandria residents. Glenn. Carol. _Daryl_.

There had been a situation, one even the best of the best couldn't make it out of, and the remaining few of the original group despaired over the loss of their family. Maggie wept and screamed for Glenn... Rosita for Abe... Beth for Daryl... And a dark cloud took permanent residence over the Alexandria safe zone, and suddenly nothing seemed to be even half decent anymore.

People didn't smile, flowers didn't grow, the sun didn't shine, and typically things were grey—in a dull, cliché kind of way.

Only Rick didn't want to ponder on the clichéness of things, and neither did anyone else. Carl had fallen into a depression after what happened to Michonne; Rosita stuck to Tara like a shaking leaf, withdrawn and despondent; and Maggie and Beth had hidden themselves away to wallow in their misery to themselves. Rick had tried to offer comfort to them all, tried so hard, but like he'd been with Lori, people couldn't magically just be fixed because you offered them a band aid and some plasters.

When the cut was deep, it took time to heal, for the infection to lessen, for the wound to close, and it often still stung for a while.

But eventually, it _started_ to hurt less.

Somehow.

It did.

Rick sometimes went to sit by the graves in the safe zone, frequently finding himself kneeling before the marker of his makeshift brother, and wishing so desperately for the always accountable archer to be back by his side. He imagined what _Beth_ must have been feeling over the loss of Daryl Dixon. How they had been so close to something wondrous and good… only to lose it before anything magical really truly began. It was shitty timing, cruel, and _unfair_. But really... Rick expected no less from the universe.

Beth joined him by Daryl's grave one night, venturing out after weeks of being holed up in the basement with Maggie. She stood behind his crouched form and lowered herself down to the ground also. One of her hands stretched out and planted onto his shoulder, and she leaned herself against him lightly, cheek pressed onto his shoulder.

Her eyes were fixed on the name etched into the wood on the marker, usual bright blues dim and lifeless. And Rick wanted to cry so bad for everything, but found he could not, because every miserable emotion he'd had left had been dried up. Pathetic.

"I told Maggie once that we don't get to be upset," she said quietly then, breath hitched against his neck, "But here we are… Being upset."

"Can't help it sometimes."

"No, I guess not."

She stifled what sounded like a sob, and pressed her face into his shoulder. He could feel damp soaking through the fabric of his shirt, and her grip on him tightened as she begun to tremble. He snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.

And as he did, he pressed his lips to her golden crown and pressed open mouthed kisses there that brought on proper sobs from her.

"It's not okay," she wept into his chest, "It's _not okay_..."

"I know, I know."

She gripped the front of his shirt and stared up at him with big glassy eyes, and bruised cheeks stained with sticky tears. "What's the point of still being here when everyone you're fighting for is gone? Why do we stay here…? What're we _waitin'_ for?"

"You know the answer to that. You're the one who _tells_ it people."

"I used to think I knew the answer, but now... I _don't_. I don't know. Why do we stay here when there's just nothing? When there's just..."

Rick kissed her cheeks, wiping the wetness away with his lips and pads of his thumbs.

She cried harder when he did that, and his stubble scraped her jaw when she shifted closer as she sobbed.

"You _know_ the answer," he whispered between damp breaths and kisses, "You do."

Her eyelids slid closed and new thick tears slid down her dusty cheeks.

You _do_.

.

.

There were all those moments... And then there was _that_ one.

It had to have been months since the last kiss, ages since they'd lost almost everyone they knew, and twice since the safe zone had fallen under attack. But they'd survived, somehow. They'd pulled through every time.

Maybe it was a sign that this home was here to stay, that they were meant to be here, that they could belong. That's what Beth said at least.

She'd come out of her bubble finally. Her and Maggie. They all had eventually, because it was what they did. Pulled through hard times, rekindled the flames.

 _We carry on._

Rick had left Judith with Carl at the house, and went to seek out Beth. He found her where he thought he would, where she always was, by the wall at the south of the safe zone, where an enormous _'A'_ had been painted onto the smooth steel with spray-paint. She often stood there, right below it, staring up at the dried red letter, paint crusty and flaking. Today she had a hand outstretched and palm pressed onto the cold metal, seasonal breeze blowing through the stray hairs around her face and her low ponytail. The wind was biting, winter on its way, but somehow Rick felt warm.

He walked closer, and she didn't turn as he stood at her side. He shifted his gaze up to the _'A'_ too, and they stood like that for a while in the wintertime chill.

Then Beth took his hand, and clasped it tight.

He squeezed her fingers, warmth rushing up his arm at the contact, and a wave of calm washed over his conscious. _The Greene Effect_.

Or just the _Beth_ Effect.

And Rick knew in that moment that all those little moments had to have been leading up to something… Not the inevitable downfall of all of them. To something true, and brighter. More than decease.

You had to grab life by the hand and go running, fleeing the cloud of death and never giving in. Having _faith_ in the open road that would lead you to absolution.

 _What're we waitin' for?_

What?

 _This_.

He leaned down and kissed her, only this time he pressed his mouth to her _lips_.

The gesture didn't seem to surprise her, but then again nothing seemed to surprise her, and she moved her hand from the cold of the wall to the warmth of his chest, and kissed him back. This kiss was deep, hot, and sent a flush across both their cheeks, pushing any trace of cold away. And the warmth didn't leave even when small flakes of snow began to fall from the white-blue sky.

He wanted to say something about it almost being like a scene from a movie, but she swallowed his sentence and kissed him roughly for Beth Greene. And he held the sides of her head firmly and returned the intensity, tongue lapping at hers, and she sighed huskily into his mouth. A soft, feminine sound, that brought promise of sheets and pillows and dreams. And then Rick knew moments like that could still exist, even in the kind of world they lived in now.

It was still okay.

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End file.
